winds esker               
  
                                          
 there  was this place that for two years 
 i couldn't  go  to. regardless how  much 
 discussed with  others,  or pointed  out 
 on  maps, i  could not  think of it when 
 alone.  i  would often travel  past  the 
 fork, where a  right  turn would  surely 
 take me there,  but even then, something 
              kept me away.               
                                          
 when  i finally  got there,  after  some 
     heavy subconscious battle i must     
 assume,   the   place  was  surreal.  an 
 esker,  like a needle-thin  rift out  in 
 the   lake,  but  ten  meters  high  and 
 adorned  in birch, willow, bracken,  and 
               blueberries.               
                                          
 walking  atop  that  spine,  i  came  to 
 notice  the view  to either side.  there 
 should  be  shores,  of  course,  but  i 
 didn't  recognize them.  first off, they 
 were much too close, as  the lake should 
 stretch for  a  hundred  meters  more on 
 both  sides.  but  now  i  felt i  could 
 almost reach  out and  touch  them.  and 
 then,  when i realized which shores they 
           were, i had to stop.           
                                          
 they  were of the  right lake. but  this 
      lake is large, fractured, and       
 bipartite.  like a  pair of lungs carved 
 into the granite, and with  no less than 
   five communities anchored at various   
      points. and so, studying these      
    impossibly close shores, i slowly     
 understood them as  belonging many miles 
                  away.                   
                                          
 i  examined  the  ridge,   the  treeline 
 above. was  this what  you saw opposite, 
 from  those  other  shores?  i  couldn't 
                remember.                 
                                          
 carrying  forward,  on  the  very tip of 
 the  esker, i found  the  ruins of  some 
    old building. there were overgrown    
  marble staircases, stone floors beneath 
 the  moss,  and strange  slabs  inserted 
 into the  slope  like dams  against  the 
              ground itself.              
                                          
 sitting there, i  could  see  across the 
 narrowed lake my entire path to  where i 
 sat:  from the  stairwell of  my  house, 
 through  the old woods  behind  the tile 
      factory, the bridge over route      
 twenty three  and then  back  under  it, 
 through  the  fancy   villas,  over  the 
 fields,  and then that right turn at the 
                   fork.                  
                                          
 and then  the  stairs up on  the  ridge. 
 thinking back,  this  was  probably  it. 
 hidden  in  a  grove, there  were stairs 
 much like the ones i  currently sat  on, 
 old and  worn  down, that  lead  you  up 
 onto the esker. the point of  entry. had 
 i insted opted to  walk the path  at its 
 foot, i'm  sure  my  experience would've 
          been different indeed.          
                                          
  
                                          
 on  the  lake,  there  were   people  in 
 boats.  i wondered, could  they even see 
 me?  if  i shouted,  would  they turn to 
          stare right through me?